Wind billowed in over the high divide, a chilling gush of lingering winter, blowing residual snow loose from the parapets above in a frozen wave that cascaded down like water. The girl shivered as it raked across her cheeks, catching the inside of her drawn-up hood and slipping its way under her shirt. Instinctively she pinched closed the open neckline of her cloak, pulling her hood in a little tighter that it might better shield her face. A frenzy of snowflakes swirled by her nose then, pushed out from the wall’s shadows in a chaotic bluster, where there they caught the sunlit rays of afternoon and transformed into a glittering cloud of lights, sparkling brilliantly in the sun. The trailing wisps of the gust sent the dangling corners of her cloak aflutter, and she pressed her back against the cold stone when feeling the breeze’s adamant tug.
Perhaps it was a mistake to climb this high. She looked straight down to the rooftops far below as she thought it, watching as the snowfall dissipated before ever touching those distant houses.
The chastisement rang clearly inside her head from a cynical inner voice, a voice so constant that even the shrill wind had no hope to block it out.
The girl rolled her eyes and ignored it. Contrary to its accusation, she believed that the promise of an excellent view was enough to make this “foolish climb” worth the risk. And besides, the challenging feat had kept her well distracted; something she had sorely needed. Though it had taken much longer to do than anticipated, clambering up the border wall with nothing but her hands and feet had tested her abilities as much as she had hoped it would. The structure’s sturdy stonework had supplied very few footholds for grabbing after reaching a certain height, and she’d been forced to be clever and expertly nimble in order to continue climbing. Scaling the links of giant bone buttresses and drakescale plating proved the most treacherous of her obstacles, for these had grown slick with melting slush in the sun and icy where shadows fell. Nevertheless, these too were bested once she had discovered the secret to ascending them, but now that she had come so far up, it was better that she stop.
Yes, the whole endeavor was admittedly foolish, dangerous and a complete waste of time, but even this silly, pointless climb was more preferable to the accursed lull of waiting. For the past four days she’d done naught but wait: wait for her enigmatic mistress to return, wait for necessary supplies to be bought and gathered, wait for the caravan to ready itself and move on, wait, wait, wait. She’d grown exceedingly tired of waiting, bored by the lack of activity and the changelessness of her surroundings, and restless whenever told to be patient. Honestly, how could they expect her to be patient when that day was growing so near? They knew she’d been waiting six years for it to come, and now, finally, it was almost time.
Tilting her head back, the girl gazed up at the bleak, blue sky and sighed. What underlying apprehension she’d been keeping pent up escaped upon her breath, and she felt a pang of guilt upon hearing it. “I shouldn’t feel this way,” she uttered to the air, her words becoming a white mist on the wind.
“You rarely feel anything but contempt,” the girl scoffed, “so it’s no surprised you aren’t the least bit nervous.” Again she sighed, with exasperation this time, and sat down upon the thin stone ledge that was serving as her current perch. “What I wouldn’t give to know what put that dragon-sized chip on your shoulder.”
“Which means that either you don’t know or won’t talk about it.” The girl shook her head, knowing she’d get no answer. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve spent nearly seventeen years not knowing your problem. A couple hundred more won’t hurt me.” Absentmindedly she pulled the loose strands of her bangs away from her mouth where the most recent breeze had threatened to dry them to her lips. Then she tucked an ankle under the bend of her knee, letting one leg dangle freely over the high edge. “It’s completely reasonable to be nervous,” she muttered, trying to convince herself more than anyone else.
For a third time the girl sighed; she’d been doing that an awful lot of late. “I really don’t need your commentary.”
Falling silent then, and rather than dwell on her own apprehension, she gazed down toward the city below in search of something that would take her mind off her worry. The breeze died fully when she did, and soon after the scent of burning soot began tickling her nose. With the wind now calm, the rising smell of city cinders could reach her easily, and the ashes from a multitude of chimney fires were wafting up toward her on thin plumes of black smoke, converging into a hazy fog just below her feet. Normally, there would be a great throng passing beneath that haze; crowds going about their daily business and weaving through the city streets. Today, however, the atmosphere was beset by an unusual silence. Those seeking to cross over Cambria’s border were few this time of year, and, normally, this would account for the absence of bustle as the city would not return to its usual prosperity until the fullness of the approaching spring. But this was not the true reason why the border town had grown so vacant, and the girl could see the obvious cause quite easily from her vantage point.
Out in the open fields just beyond the city’s walls was the place where The Circus of the Moonlit Veil, her home, had made its temporary stead. In vivid contrast to the bleak stretches of dead grass and snow stood a circular hoard of multicolored wagon cars and a variety of tall, striped tents. The lively hues of their mass stood out brightly against a dreary backdrop of leafless black oaks, and within a world cast beneath the doldrums of winter, the vibrant color of the caravan easily attracted the wandering eye. Even at such a distance away the girl could make out the flickers of movement between the colorful tents and carts, spying there the missing city crowds and stirrings of life that came with them.
Like so many ants people walked here and there between the circus’s wagon cars, meandering from one eccentricity to the next. The caravan became like this wherever it was they went. Always it was crowded by strangers whose curiosity birthed a desire to trade away their precious coin for a variety of amusements and wonders. One could hardly blame their visitors for succumbing to such wants, for it was the circus’s very purpose to make those feelings bloom. Her beloved caravan was the only one of its kind on the whole of Elequa, and thus it rightly piqued the peoples’ interest no matter what town or country they graced.
This time of year, a simple glimpse of the odd and unique was all it took to pry coin from winter-weary palms. That visitors were so easily convinced to part with their money was, in some cruel way, amusing, but necessary. The traveling wagon train was of enormous size and so needed a likewise large amount of funding in order to supply for its expensive ventures. To make this so, the caravan had become the only place that housed traders, craftsmen and entertainers alike, all wandering to every corner of the continent on nothing but wind and wheels. It was a self-sufficient cornucopia of goods, marvels and talents, and the girl was but one of the great many pieces used to procure its prosperity. It was her job within the circus to bring smiles to forlorn faces, and laughter where there was none to find. People of all walks of life paid good money for what wares and works the caravan possessed, and oft would hand over even more so to witness their brilliant flights of fancy. Yes, no matter where they set up shop, she was always there to help ensure that the circus left every city with coffers brimming, and that in their wake was left the desire for them to come again.
And now, with the long-awaited day fast approaching, the girl found herself thinking often about the caravan and its larger scope, reminiscing on her place within the circus and her duty to it. Even now, sitting alone, high upon the wall, her thoughts drifted to such reveries. She’d learned a great deal being under the big top, and now that she was to become even more integral to its design, she wondered what more she would have to shoulder for its sake. Long ago she had decided that nothing would be too great for her to give, for the circus was her everything and she desired little else than to be of greater use to the caravan’s matron. After all, six years ago, that very matron had saved her life, and ever since the woman had not only given the girl a place in this gods-forsaken world, but had also taught her how to survive in it. She’d consider it a blessing, an honor, if her new calling was just to better help that woman’s cause.
“Saraya!” The call came to the girl on the wind, drawing her from the depths of her inner thinking. Looking out toward the open air, she quickly spied a figure flying toward her over the city, one swaddled in many thick layers of wools and cottons.
“Tief,” she muttered, shaking her head with a smile. Clothed as he was, Saraya could have correctly identified the dracon male from a mile away if she’d had the need, for no other dracon but he would dare dress so absurdly in public. Tief hated winter more than anyone else she knew, and always bundled up so much that it was a miracle he could fly. Saraya had never once seen a fat dracon before, but if they existed, she was certain that they would look much like the cotton-puffed male: round, plump and impossibly clumsy.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Frankly though, there was no chance that this draken wasn’t one of her circus kin, for dracon largely avoided cities due to the threat of being shot down. The circus, however, housed many of their kind, in spite of the race’s notorious and well-deserved reputation. That he was one of theirs was the only explanation as to why a dracon would be here, and the only reason why he wasn’t being attacked by the city guard.
Slipping her hand from her glove, Saraya stuck two fingers into her mouth and released a sharp whistle to the air, causing the presumed Tief to stop mid flight in answer. For a few moments the wool-coated dracon searched for the sound’s source, hovering in place with his wings raking at the rising plumes of cinder smoke. Once the green forest-blessed finally looked her way, Saraya gave a wave to catch his attention, and when he spotted her signal he turned and started in her direction. When nearing, Tief fell into a sudden dive before swiftly arcing back up again, and rose just above Saraya’s height with an accompanying gust of wind that forced the girl to shield her face. Coming into land, the young male opened his leathery wings like a large parachute, and floating down toward the thin ledge he extended triple-jointed legs that were nearly as long as Saraya was tall. These taking the full brunt of his fall, the dracon fell into a crouch with a grunt, his claws scraping upon the weatherworn stone. Unfortunately for him, the perch was clearly much too small to accommodate his size, and so it was all Tief could do to just stand there awkwardly.
“You could have chosen a larger ledge,” he grumbled, still facing the wall, his voice muffled by his back and the thick, striped scarf around his face.
“But I like to watch you struggle,” Saraya sneered, though the voice was not quite her own.
Tief snorted through his nose. “Of course you would, Alter,” he sniffed in retort, accentuating the name of they who had truly spoken. He’d known Saraya for years, and like the rest of the circus, also knew very well of the quirk she possessed. “At least Saraya isn’t as coldhearted as you.”
“Well,” Saraya began, wryly grinning herself, “actually, it is pretty amusing watching you struggle so.”
“I stand corrected,” Tief scoffed as he stretched out a wing and hooked its opposable claw into a crack in the wall’s mortar. Using this to hold his weight, he shuffled around on large lizard feet until he successfully managed to stand facing the open air. But even like this the ledge was still too small to fit him comfortably, and despite his better positioning he looked quite squished regardless. Still, he crouched like a bird in a tree nonetheless and then wrapped his thick green tail over his clawed toes. “Don’t adopt any more of her traits, Saraya,” he warned, pulling his scarf away from his mouth. “It’s already hard enough to tell which of you is which sometimes.”
“Sorry,” Saraya replied in earnest. “It’s not like a mean to. But we are one in the same, you know. I can’t help that I was born with two minds.” Tief released some noncommittal noise, to which Saraya merely shrugged. “You know,” she went on, “I didn’t expect you to join me.”
“Oh really?” Tief began, peering over the edge. “Then how were you intending to get down?”
Saraya went quiet, but then, chuckling slightly, she replied, “Okay, let me amend: I didn’t expect you to join me yet.”
Tief snorted from his nose, creating a great white cloud as the girl laughed. But he swiftly smiled too, and after a moment, pulled off his woolen cap to run clawed fingers through his messy blonde hair. “It’s almost time, isn’t it?” He asked, replacing the hat once his hair was back in place.
“Time?”
“You know…”
“Oh, that. Yes, it is.” Tief was being unnecessarily vague, but Saraya knew of what he spoke. She’d been dwelling on it all day after all.
The thirteenth of Wintersbane. To most it was just another day, no different than the many others that combined to create the year. But this was not so for her. This year it marked the day she would turn seventeen; a meaningless age to the vast majority, but one that meant a great deal to the company she kept. In typical society it was only upon reaching the age of thirty that one would be considered an adult and be granted the right to take part in city affairs and politics. This was not the case, however, within the circus caravan. Because their wandering societal ring was unlike any other, it required a different set of rules in order to maintain balance. Though she would still be considered a child at her coming age, Saraya would be expected to shoulder greater responsibility for the caravan’s care nonetheless. It was precisely this duty that she had been waiting to possess, training for years to accept and uphold. It was also this same looming duty that had been making her feel so nervous with its approach.
“Do you think it will be me or Chloe this year?” Tief said, changing the subject, though only slightly.
“I don’t know,” Saraya answered. “You’re both tied at two each. It could go either way.” Though he hadn’t said it outright, Tief was referring to their game: an unspoken contest that the three of them played concerning the giving of birthday well-wishes. In part, the game was unspoken because their third party, Chloe, was a mute, but it was also because it was more fun to keep the contest a secret.
“You only think so because you’re a boring old nag,” Saraya snapped to the air, causing Tief to look at her quizzically.
But then the dracon caught on. “Criticizing us again?” He questioned.
Saraya nodded. “Of course. It’s what she’s good at. It just wasn’t worth usurping my tongue to say aloud this time.”
Alter’s scoff echoed in her mind.
“Well, that won’t take very long,” Saraya sighed deeply, and putting her arms behind her head to act as a buffer between her and the cold stone, she leaned back against the wall with a slouch. Having her voice stolen was not an uncommon occurrence by any means, but she hated any time she unwillingly lost control of any part of her body. The others called it a quirk, but she never found the term strong enough to suit whatever her condition was. To Saraya, having Alter alongside her was not just a quirk, but life as the only way that she knew it; and often times she found it to be a nuisance. Still, she couldn’t deny that her peculiarity did indeed have its uses, and also that, quite frankly, she would be lost without her second half.
Admitting to herself even slightly that she needed her other half seemed to ease Alter’s temper, for her mind immediately felt a little less roiled and more in line. Saraya was relieved to know it, for fighting with herself always caused her unwanted stress, and she didn’t need any more of that with everything else that was on her mind. Sinking a little lower against the wall, Saraya looked out over the view that she’d worked so hard to claim. Lazily she watched the wind whip the city smoke around in swirls and observed the continued goings on inside the circus in the distance. Already she could feel her boredom setting in again however, and knew that if this kept up she would need to find another distraction.
She was just about to mention as much to Tief when she spotted a distant pale blue streak, racing as though a piece of the sky itself had broken off into a plummet. Though it was difficult to see at first, after the drake-shaped speck had torn away from the clouds, it spread large wings to correct its course and appeared to be heading directly toward the caravan.
“Tharanax!” Saraya exclaimed, recognizing the flying mount as her mistress’s wind-raker.
“Tharanax?” Tief began while scanning the sky with his eyes. Stretching his legs a little that he might stand a bit taller, eventually he also spied the quickly-approaching blue drake. “Yes, I’d say that’s him. I doubt anyone else around here rides such an expensive alteya.”
“Especially if they live on a soldier’s pension,” Saraya quipped. “And even if they could afford it, soldiers always choose ryk instead.” Getting her hands back beneath her, Saraya jumped carefully to her feet just as another frozen wind swept down over the border wall. This gust was the strongest yet, blowing so fiercely that she could hear pennants somewhere above flapping wildly in the tempest. She inched forward regardless of it, standing so close to the edge that the toes of her boots crossed over into the open air. Again she felt the wind pulling at her cloak with the intent of dragging her down, and as before, old snow fell from above like a miniature blizzard. But this time Saraya threw back her hood and embraced the snowflakes upon her cheeks, too eager now to be off the wall and thus unwilling to cower.
“Come on!” She called to Tief. “You know I’m always the first to greet Veil upon her return. If we don’t go now I’ll be late!”
Tief, however, didn’t budge. In fact, he sunk even lower into his cramped space. “It won’t kill you to be late,” he grumbled while tying his scarf back around his face, making it even tighter than before. “I’m not flying in this cursed wind. Wait until it dies down. I’ll take you then.”
Saraya huffed through her nose, nearly scoffing with impatience, and looked longingly toward the caravan as the alteya eventually reached it. Teetering dangerously over the edge with her desire to go, Saraya wondered how else she could get down swiftly, but thought of nothing. It had to be Veil who had come. It could be no one else. How anxiously she’d been waiting all this time for her mistress to return, and now Tief was going to willingly ruin their reunion!
The words whispered were sly, and immediately images of Alter’s unspoken plan seeped into Saraya’s mind. In response to the notion, Saraya glanced over the ledge and down toward the city, gauging their current height with her eyes. They were quite the distance up, with that she agreed, but to do as Alter suggested, would it be high enough?
It was a risk she was willing to take.
“Well, if words won’t convince you to move…” Saraya coyly began, and without waiting for a response, she jumped forward.